1350: Everybody Likes Chocolate – Chapter Twenty and Twenty-OnePosted: March 7, 2016
Hello, everyone! Welcome back to ELC. We’re getting really close to the end. I can almost taste it.
Last time we met there were some definite pedophilic vibes from Wonka toward his 13-year-old adoptee. I can only imagine this will continue. As such, I’ve supplied everyone with a stack of squick-sickness bags. Feel free to ask your friendly neighborhood ninja if you need more. They’ll be stationed throughout the classroom today.
Chapter 20: Wonka Shows His Temper
As I went back over to the table, I began to get rather nervous. Why had Chocol told me to be careful? I was in no hurry to find out. I sat down across from him, as far away as the table would allow. He gave me a certain look… “Mr. Wonka!” I screamed.
Jesus! Warn me before you randomly screech someone’s name at them! *rubs ears, wincing*
“What? What did I do?”
You were giving her the bedroom eyes, that’s what you did. Knock it off.
I ran to the other end of the room. “I know who you are!”
Other end of the room from where? From the table? Are you putting as much distance between yourself and Wonka as possible? Or did you run toward him? I’m very confused here.
“Who I am? What do you mean?”
“I… I know you.”
He gave me a rather confused look. “I sure hope you know me.”
I’m with Wonka on this one. I have no idea what’s going on. I think this just happened to kitty:
“That’s not what I mean!” I was realizing a lot of things all at once, and it became too much for me. His eyes… I knew it. They were the same. As he walked over to me I couldn’t stop looking into them and remembering that day about a year before. It was crystal clear to me now. “You’re… you’re him.”
I looked at his jacket, the W. I didn’t know what to do. Was I to run away? Be happy? Be sad? I didn’t know. “You’re… the nicest man on earth.” That is what I always called him, since I didn’t know who it was.
I don’t know if I’d go so far as to say that. I mean, he’s been pretty nice to let you stay there but he’s also been creepin’ on you pretty hardcore. I think there may be some motive behind him taking you in that I don’t like.
“Why thank you.” He didn’t understand.
“No, I mean… that man. The one who gave me the chocolates.” I was still in shock.
“Oh, that ‘him’. Why yes, I thought you already knew.”
Wait, wait, wait. You mean the random guy that gave her a box of chocolate way back when instead of giving her shoes or food that could actually sustain her? Oh, yeah. Super nice.
“How would I know? You played it so well like you didn’t know what I was talking about. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Well, I thought that was the reason for your coming here. I thought you came to thank me or something. How was I supposed to know?”
You could have asked.
“Oh wow. I have been with you this whole time, and I never noticed. How could I be so…”
Oblivious? Because you saw him once something close to a whole mother-fucking year ago.
“Don’t even think about it. I will not allow you to accuse yourself of stupidity like that. Actually, I forbid it.” His voice seemed very stern, very strict.
But it only seemed that way. In reality, his voice was quite lighthearted and carefree.
That scared me, so I whispered. “I’m sorry.” He sensed that he had scared me.
“I apologize for that tone I just used. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I was still whispering. “It’s ok.”
Wonka, can I speak with you for just a moment? *reaches into the fic, grabs Wonka by the collar, and yanks his top half through her monitor* You’re obviously dealing with someone with a shit ton of unresolved mental issues. If you want to be a good adopted parent to this urchin, the first thing you need to do is get her some professional help. Do you understand me? Because this behavior she is exhibiting is a huge red flag that she has some sort problem with her ability to deal with criticism in a healthy way. Cowing under like this just because you were stern with her? That’s not right. *shoves Wonka back through the monitor*
“So, do you really think that I have ‘the most beautiful brown eyes’?”
And from left field, a random question about his eyes.
Uh oh, he had me there. I now wished I wouldn’t have said that earlier. “Well… um…” I didn’t know what to say.
How about the truth? Why does everyone in this fic have trouble just saying the truth?
“I thought so.” His eyes twinkled in the light of the room. They were so pretty though! I couldn’t lie to him; I had to tell him they were.
“Yes, I suppose they are.” This remark surprised him.
“I don’t think they’re really that nice. I hate them, actually. Brown is such a dull color, unlike blue…” he looked directly into my blue eyes. He was doing it again! I didn’t like that. Or did i? I looked away from him, but I still sensed his stare.
May I remind everyone that the girl is 13 and Wonka is, at the very youngest, in his 40’s.
“I don’t like my eyes. They are such an off color. In between blue and green, and rather dull. They annoy me.”
Have you spent a lot of time looking into mirrors in your alleyway cardboard box mansion? No? Then how would you be so familiar with the color of your eyes?
“How can you say that!? Even though they are dark, they can still be pretty. Look at what you said about mine. Mine are dark.”
This is such a bizarre, out of place conversation. Did the author just decide she needed to include it to show us what color kitty’s eyes are? Or was this her attempt to foreshadow *gag* attraction between a 13-year-old girl and a 40-year-old man?
I began to walk across the room toward the door. “Can we just forget about that comment?” I said as I walked past him. “Thank you.”
No, no. Thank you for putting a stop to this asinine scene.
“You know, you seem to have taken up a bit of an attitude haven’t you?” I stopped dead in my tracks and stood perfectly still. “I’m not sure I like it.” I had gotten in too deep.
*takes a deep breath*
I need a moment.
*walks out of her office and down the hallways until she reaches the lobby where Lina’s coffee stand sits*
Lina: You look like you’re about to explode. Want a cuppa, hun? *puts a tea bag into a mug*
Lina: What’s on your mind? I can take a break now. *motions to a Darkwraith covered in body glitter to take over the till and steers Lyle to an outdoor cafe table set up inside. She pushes the tea across the table to Lyle* Now, what’s going on?
It’s this fic, Lina. It’s so horrible. Not the writing, although that’s crap, it’s the concepts behind it. This author seems to have absolutely no common sense, nor any experience in the real world. She’s essentially glorifying pedophilia and is writing Wonka like he’s a domineering, abusive, controlling, manipulative asshole. It makes me want to scream and tear things apart. He just got mad at her for asserting her opinion and saying she didn’t want to discuss their topic of conversation anymore, claiming she has an attitude, not that she’s an autonomous person who is allowed to have her own feelings. She cows under at any indication he’s displeased with her instead of standing up for herself. And all this is about a stupid conversation regarding eye color. It’s like… it’s like… *waves her hand around*
Lina: It’s like this author is channeling your ex-husband.
…Yes. And it’s very hard to read.
Lina: *reaches over and wraps her arms around Lyle’s shoulders, hugging her* Tell you what, poppet. Why don’t you stay here for a bit, have as much tea and scones as you want, on the house, and I’ll finish the riff for today?
*sips her tea* You’d do that?
Lina: I owe my existence – and my day job – to you. Of course I will. *kisses Lyle on top of the head* Just let Nana Lina take care of everything.
Thanks. I appreciate it.
Lina: *grabs a large coffee and a scone to go and heads to Lyle’s office* Alright, everyone. Let’s see here. *takes a moment to read what’s happened up to this point* Bugger.
I turned around, trying to maintain myself. I couldn’t cry now, he would find delight in the fact that he was right. I didn’t know what to say. I was about to say something like, ‘so have you,’ but decided not to. “I know. I don’t like it either. I hate myself for doing so.” I sat down on the floor and began to cry. “I’m so sorry. I have been so rude to you, and look at what you have done for me.”
Lina: Yup, manipulative bastard. He’s making you feel bad without even trying. You need some help, sweetie, and I don’t think Wonka is going to provide that for you.
It wasn’t helping. “Can you make yourself cry whenever you want to? It sure seems that way. You cry to get my attention, don’t you? I never should have given you that title. I want all of that back by tonight. Your room will be cleaned out and used as something else. If you don’t mind, I would like you to be gone by… 9:00 tonight.”
Lina: Did that really just happen? You’ve been through more mental trauma than I ever have – and trust me, my life hasn’t been rainbows and unicorn farts – and he thinks you’re just faking your emotional responses to the overload this change in your life is causing? What a twat!
“But sir, I’m really sorry!”
“Saying so doesn’t matter, its feeling that way that counts.”
Lina: If you’re trying to sound profound with that, you failed.
Chapter 21: Leaving
Lina: Sounds like a good plan. Get away from that asshat.
“And by the way, here’s your stupid box!” He threw it on the floor next to me, and then walked out the door.
Lina: Yup, the part of Wonka is going to be played by Lyle’s ex-husband. I mean, seriously, how childish can you possible get?! She didn’t want to talk about eye color anymore and you flip your shit like she just told you she hated your guts and wanted you to go bugger a cow. What the hell is wrong with you?
“I’m so sorry,” I kept saying.
Lina: That’s the response of someone who has undergone a lot of abuse. Just keep apologizing like it’s your fault when, get this, poppet: NONE OF THIS IS YOUR FAULT!
Chocol walked over to me. “Miss Wonka, are you really leaving?”
“Yes, Chocol. And you don’t have to call me that anymore, actually, I’m sure Mr. Wonka prefers you don’t.”
“You’re still Miss Wonka to me.”
“Well, I don’t think that’s appropriate anymore.”
“Where will you go? You have nowhere to go do you?”
“Right back to where I came from in the first place. I’ll be alright.”
“Are you still friends?”
“I don’t think we ever were.”
Lina: That’s correct: you were never friends. All you were was his intended dick ornament. When you tried to assert that you had a mind of your own, he showed his true, sociopathic colors and kicked you out. He can’t make you his slave if you have a mind of your own. Trust me, sweetie, you’re better off living in a box than having him try to live in yours.
I went back to my room. The clock read 5:00 PM, only 4 hours until I had to be out. I got my old clothes and put them on. I put the other ones neatly on my bed, and the jewelry back in the box. I washed my face to remove any trace of the makeup I had on, and washed my hair so it was wavy again. By the time I had gotten completely dressed down, it was 7:30. I still had to announce my resignation.
Lina: It took you two and a half hours to remove your make up, change your clothing, and wash your hair? Are you really a sloth?
I went into the main area where almost all the oompas worked. “I have an announcement to make!” when I spoke, they listened. They stared at me in my normal clothes, looking just as I had before. “I am resigning. I will never forget you, and I will miss both you, and this place itself.” An oompa walked over to me.
Lina: The factory is a huge facility with multiple rooms. There is no one “main area” where they work. Also, you’re not resigning. You were essentially fired. There’s a big difference.
“Why are you resigning? What happened?”
I crouched down to him. “I’m being fired. Mr. Wonka told me to leave. I wouldn’t bother him if I were you.”
Lina: See, you were fired. You can’t resign if you’ve been fired.
“Strike!” someone yelled. The voice was accompanied by many others. Pretty soon, every oompa loompa in the factory was chanting.
Lina: *raises an eyebrow* You can’t strike without first going through your union representative. You don’t have one because you’re not a union? Then you can’t go on strike. You’ll be fired, just like Sloth here.
I quickly returned to my room. I picked my hat up off of the bed and held it close to me, crying so hard I couldn’t breathe. I was hated by him, and probably the oompas. He would probably tell them lots of bad things about me. I heard someone enter.
Lina: And where the hell did you get the idea that the Oompa Loompas, who are trying to strike in protest of your “resignation” hate you?!
“What is it, Chocol?”
“I wanted to give you this. I hope you like it.”
I opened the small box and inside was a heart-shaped chocolate.
“Thank you, I appreciate it.”
Lina: Yes, that will go a long way to help her not die on the streets. Well done.
“Wait, that’s not all. All of us have a gift for you.” The door opened, and 2 oompa loompas were carrying a large plaque. It read, ‘To Miss Wonka, for all of the things you have done for us. Signed, the oompa loompas and .’ There was an empty metal plate where Mr. Wonka’s signature was supposed to be.
Lina: She hasn’t done anything for you! She’s been there, what, two days? All she’s done is wandered around, eaten chocolate, and been assaulted – physically by the random mustache twirler and mentally by your boss. And what the ever-living fuck is she going to do with an ungainly, useless plaque?! She’s homeless, you twats!
“Thank you. Oh my, it’s nine. I have to go now.” I was crying again.
Lina: *hands the sloth a tissue* I’d give you crap for being such a wet blanket, but you’ve been treated like shit and deserve a good sniffle.
I walked out and got to the front door and turned around. He was standing across the room, watching me. I had to let him know how upset I was. “I hate you! Do you hear me? I hate you! I thought you were my friend, but you played me. You set me up so I could fall.” I unwrapped my arm, and the bandage was full of blood. “Here, something to remember me by. The blood I shed for you, and for what? For you to kick me out. You know how much pain I went through? 17 stitches Mr. Wonka! I really hate you for this!” I opened the door and walked out.
Lina: You didn’t change your bandage when the blood soaked through? In fact, why didn’t you go back to the hospital when the blood soaked through? If you’re bleeding that much, there’s a serious complication from the surgery that needs to be addressed or you will bleed to death.
Lina: Whew, that was harrowing. That’s all for this week, everyone. I’m going to go check on Lyle. Hopefully she’ll be better and ready to come back next week. Until then, have more common sense than a toaster and I’m sure I’ll see you next Monday.